


feel my skin

by kinneyb



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M, temporary paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier tried to nod before remembering - right, couldn't really do that. "An hour?" he repeated. "Not so bad. I can survive an hour."Geralt continued to stare at him. "An hour, Jaskier - " he started slowly " - for me."Jaskier wasn't an idiot, even if he acted like it sometimes (helped get him out of bad situations). "Oh. Right. Human, not human."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 385





	feel my skin

**Author's Note:**

> written for one of my supporters!
> 
> also this can be a kind of sensitive topic and i hope i did okay and no one finds offense to any of it!
> 
> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

How was Jaskier supposed to know the yummy looking thing in Gerat's bag wasn't for human consumption? They'd been traveling through the woods for days and food was low, okay?

"Jaskier, why would you eat something from my bag without asking first?"

He was propped up against a tree, staring at his hands in his lap. Hands he could not move, not even a twitch.

"At least I can still talk," he remarked after a moment.

Geralt sighed, crouched next to him. "Yes, what a blessing," he muttered with a hint of amusement.

Jaskier's eyes flickered to the empty bag by their feet. "So. I'm assuming that stuff _isn't_ supposed to paralyze you when you eat it," he said.

He smiled - or tried to, at least, he wasn't really sure - when Geralt let out a snort, shaking his head. "Actually, you'd be wrong."

Jaskier stared at him, not understanding. Geralt stared back, looking annoyingly amused with the situation.

"It does paralyze me, but only for about - " he tilted his head back and forth " - an hour, during which my healing is sped up. Only use it when I have no other choice, seeing as that is risky, which is why I had it at the bottom of my bag - for _emergencies_." He gently smacked Jaskier's arm, an improvement from the punches he used to aim at him.

Jaskier tried to nod before remembering - right, couldn't really do that. "An hour?" he repeated. "Not so bad. I can survive an hour."

Geralt continued to stare at him. "An hour, Jaskier - " he started slowly " - for me."

Jaskier wasn't an idiot, even if he acted like it sometimes (helped get him out of bad situations). "Oh. Right. Human, not human."

"Mmm," he replied with a nod, eyes flickering to the side and back again. He almost looked worried. Jaskier would've been more warmed by it if he wasn't slightly panicking, heart thumping in his chest. "I don't know how the mix will affect a human."

Jaskier sighed, closing his eyes with a deep breath. "Of course, yes. Lovely. Should've expected that, really."

Geralt was silent. When he opened his eyes again, he was still watching him.

"Don't worry," he said gruffly. "I'll take care of it." He paused. "Of you," he corrected. "No matter what happens."

A sign of the times, of their relationship and how it had grown over the years. If this had happened at the start of their relationship, Geralt would've abandoned him without a second thought. In a city, probably, because he was never heartless, Jaskier would always attest to that, but still. He wouldn't have stuck by his side and helped him through it.

"You're a good man, Geralt," he said like he always did, and Geralt rolled his eyes, just like he always did when he complimented him, no matter how genuine.

At least it was late.

"We'll sleep," Geralt said, promptly ignoring him. "See how you are in the morning."

Jaskier smiled with his eyes, a talent he had perfected over the decades. "Wonderful idea. Hopefully this will all be over with and merely an unfortunate distant memory."

*

He still couldn't move in the morning. Jaskier could've predicted that. Life was almost never fair. Or easy.

"So," he said, staring at the sky, still on his back. Geralt had reached for him, but he had promptly told him off. He had been able to find the humor in the situation last night, but now he was struggling to do the same. "What is the plan? I'm assuming you have a plan, Geralt."

He couldn't even turn his head to look at him, but he could imagine the look on his face.

"I guess we'll have to stay here," Geralt said.

Jaskier almost laughed. "Here? In the middle of nowhere?"

"As if we don't do it all the time," he replied.

Jaskier sighed softly. "For a couple days, yes, but we don't know how long this will - " He didn't even want to say it. He closed his eyes. "Gods, Geralt."

"You'll be okay," he said, gruff and with little room for doubt. "We'll just wait it out."

Jaskier started to wonder if he really thought that. If a human had never tried that particular brew, how did he know what would happen? What if he never moved again? He supposed he should be lucky just to be alive, really, he knew there were other mixes Geralt had - and took - that would not have been so forgiving, and yet all he could feel was dread, through and through.

"How am I supposed to do anything?" he said after a long stretch of silence. "I can't even stand up to - you know."

Geralt entered his line of sight, leaning over him. "I already told you," he replied. "I'll take care of everything."

Jaskier stared up at him, unblinking. "You realize you don't have to," he muttered, even as his heart squeezed - painful and tight - in his chest. "You could just drop me off in the next town."

"And hope that someone there would help you?" he said, mouth twisting. "I don't like those chances." He reached for him, stopping at the last second. "Will you let me?"

Jaskier swallowed. "Fine, if you must."

Geralt grabbed his arm, gently pulling him up. Once he was settled, leaning against a tree, Geralt stood up. "You'll need energy," he said with a nod, not really talking to Jaskier. "I'll be right back."

"Um. You're leaving me?" he asked in disbelief. "Like this?"

Geralt stared down at him. "Scream," he said simply. "I'll be here."

Jaskier wanted to doubt him, but he couldn't. He knew if he needed him, he would be there. "Okay," he agreed quietly. "Just - be quick about it, okay?"

"As quick as I can," he replied before grabbing one of his swords. He stopped near Roach on his way. "Watch over him," he said, patting her head. She snorted loudly, tail swishing.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, and knew - now - that he could smile.

*

Geralt returned with a deer and quickly prepared it. Jaskier watched, not able to do much else. Once the meat was over the fire, he walked over and sat by him.

"I should've warned you," he said, an odd tilt to his voice.

Jaskier stared at the fire, not left with much of a choice. "I shouldn't have poked around your things," he said breezily. He paused, knowing the other man. "This isn't your fault, Geralt."

He just grunted in reply.

"And you're helping me when you don't have to," he continued. "That is very noble."

He smiled a little, knowing how Geralt felt about nobles. "I do," he replied after a long stretch of silence. "Have to, I mean. I couldn't leave you like this, Jaskier." Without waiting for a reply, he stood up and walked to the fire, crouching down and turning the sticks to cook the other side.

Jaskier watched his back, noted the tense line of his shoulders.

"But you could," he said after a moment, a tight pit in his stomach. There was nothing tying Geralt to Jaskier. Not like with Yennefer, or even Cirilla. Sometimes Jaskier felt like that was a good thing - a sign that Geralt stayed because he wanted to, not because he had to - but just as often he felt the fear that came with it: that Geralt could up and leave at any point. There was nothing stopping him. Certainly not Jaskier, especially under these circumstances.

Geralt turned, an odd twist to his mouth. "But I won't," he said with surprising conviction. He grabbed one of the sticks and shuffled back over, sitting down. "Here, open up."

Jaskier smiled slightly. "Are you going to feed me, Geralt?"

"Obviously," he replied tersely. "How else are you going to eat?"

Jaskier knew he had a point, but he couldn't not tease him. That would just be blasphemy. "And you couldn't have found some grapes or something?"

"Shut up," he growled, "or you'll starve."

Jaskier didn't reply, just parted his lips. Geralt let out a low sigh and picked off a piece to toss in his mouth. He chewed slowly as he watched Geralt, who was pointedly staring off to the side.

"What is it?" he asked after he had swallowed the bite. Geralt startled, a rare sight. He turned back to him, silently picking off another piece of meat. "No, no," he said when he lifted it to his mouth. "Talk to me."

Geralt sighed again. "I saw tracks," he said gruffly. "Horses. Probably nothing."

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"We're not exactly in the best of traveling condition," he replied quickly, and Jaskier frowned, stomach churning. Geralt shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I can take care of it."

"You don't even know what _it_ is," he pointed out gently. "We should get out of here."

Geralt looked at him. Jaskier tried to read his expression, a talent he had acquired over the years, and found that - for once - he couldn't. "Traveling with you like this isn't safe," he said. "We should stay."

Jaskier smiled slightly. "How unsafe could it be, really? I trust you not to let me get hurt."

"You shouldn't," he replied, gruff and fast. "Look at you."

Jaskier frowned, wishing he could reach out for him. Squeeze his arm. Instead his words would have to be enough. "This was not your fault," he reminded him sternly. "If we travel slow and steady, I should be fine."

Geralt still didn't look convinced but then he glanced out at the endless expanse of trees and clenced his jaw. "Okay," he agreed, turning back. "But we finish breakfast first."

"Obviously," he replied with the biggest grin he could muster.

*

Jaskier had ridden on Roach a few times but always on the back, arms wrapped around Geralt's waist to steady him. That was not an option at the moment, obviously, so he shouldn't have been surprised when Geralt climbed behind him, reaching around to grab the reins, his arms bracketing him.

He leaned heavily against his chest, heart thrumming. He wondered if Geralt could hear it. Maybe even feel it, considering their closeness.

"You smell of fear," Geralt commented after they'd been riding for a while. He almost sounded upset, and Jaskier had to force back a laugh.

He was scared, he supposed, but for all the wrong reasons. He feared - in this state - hiding his feelings would be even harder.

"Do I?" he asked breezily.

Geralt nodded and Jaskier could feel his breath on the back of his neck; he closed his eyes, steeling himself against the pounding of his heart, loud and relentless. "I won't let you fall," he said after a long stretch of silence.

Jaskier smiled, eyes still closed, the sun warm on his face. "I never doubted that," he said quietly, and so they continued on.

*

The town was small and surprisingly welcoming given Jaskier's obvious state of worry and, well, Geralt. Maybe his songs really had touched some souls, easing their tension around the man.

They had a bit of an argument outside of the inn.

"You are not carrying me like a bag of potatoes," he said bluntly. "Not like last time."

He remembered vividly the incident that had led to Yennefer; how he had been ill and Geralt - while caring in his own way - had carried him around like a, well, like a bag of potatoes, slung over his shoulder.

Geralt stared at him. "How do you I carry you if not - ?"

Jaskier smiled, a small twitch of his mouth. No, he couldn't tell Geralt of his feelings, certainly not, but he could have some fun. He deserved it.

"Like a bride, of course," he said airily.

It was almost comical - the deerish look Geralt aimed his way. Jaskier wasn't sure he had ever seen him look so surprised, and by such a simple suggestion.

"I - Jaskier, are you sure?" he asked finally, composed again. "People will talk."

He just kept smiling, chest tight. _Let them,_ he thought selfishly before quickly pushing it away. "And when have you ever cared for what they had to say?" he replied instead, and that was the end of the argument.

_Now -_

Entering the inn, Jaskier in his arms, Geralt fumbled and dropped his coin pouch on the table. "Five nights. Take what you need," he said, never one for pleasantries. Jaskier rolled his eyes, ignoring the pang of guilt at knowing he was wasting their money.

The innkeeper - a young nervous-looking man - blinked once before taking the bag and counting out the proper amount before pushing it back toward them, harshly clearing his throat. "Five nights," he confirmed in a high-pitched voice (Jaskier supposed his songs could only do much for so many).

Geralt grunted as he shoved the pouch back in his bag, turning away.

"I think he overcharged us," Jaskier said as they walked to a room, door ajar.

Geralt shrugged, which Jaskier thought was an odd reaction from a man obsessed with coin, always complaining when Jaskier spent too much at the market. He entered the room and closed the door without looking, kicking back. His first stop was the bed, gently setting Jaskier down.

Jaskier fell back against the headboard with a soft thump, watching as Geralt carelessly tossed their bags to the ground. The last bag - containing his lute - was treated with more care. Jaskier smiled, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Well," Jaskier said once Geralt had sat on the bed. "I think we have both earned some rest."

Geralt cut his eyes at him, not unkindly. " _We?_ " he asked with a hint of amusement.

Jaskier stared back, unwavering. "We," he confirmed. "Now get up and help me out of these dreadful clothes."

He did just that, helping Jaskier out of his shirt and even trousers, leaving him in just his underclothes. He preferred sleeping in the nude, of course, but even he wasn't so brazen. His skin was warm as he watched Geralt undress, back turned to him. He was angled just so for the best of views.

Finished, Geralt lifted the cover and crawled under. Jaskier paused for a second, mouth half-open, before suddenly Geralt tugged the blanket up over him. He closed his mouth, smiling again.

"Sleep well, Geralt," he said softly.

Geralt looked at him for a moment, an odd darkness in his eyes, before he turned away. "Yell if you need anything," he said gruffly, and Jaskier sighed, closing his eyes.

*

For the most part Geralt was a constant at his side, never leaving him for long. Jaskier felt warmed by the loyalty and yet he also felt like a nuisance.

"Go," he said on the third day.

Geralt was sitting on the bed with him, sharpening his swords as if he hadn't sharpened them yesterday and the day before. Jaskier wondered if there was such a thing as sharpening your swords too much.

"What are you talking about?" he asked as he looked up, frowning.

Jaskier cleared his throat. Sometimes he almost thought he could move, a tingle in his fingertips, but when he tried...

 _Soon_ , Geralt had told him. He hoped he was right.

"You are going out of your mind being in this room all the time," Jaskier said bluntly. Geralt opened his mouth, but he wasn't done. "I know you, Geralt. You don't just take jobs for the coin. The coin is pleasant, and needed, but you also just enjoy it. Hunting, having something to do. Hell, even helping others, as loathed as you would be to admit it."

Geralt stared at him with an unreadable expression. Jaskier didn't back down.

"That would mean leaving you, here, like this," he said, gesturing at him. "I can't."

Jaskier let out a soft laugh. "I am warmed by your worry, truly, but I will survive on my own for a few hours. I swear on it."

Geralt watched him for a long moment, silent and tense. "Okay," he said finally, slowly. "If you are sure."

He smiled. "I am," he assured him. "It is still early." The sun was still in the sky, though low. "Go; I'm sure you can find something."

Finally - for the first time in over a week - Jaskier was alone. Sighing, he closed his eyes for a nap.

When he opened his eyes again, well, it was to an unexpected sight. Not Geralt, like he would've hoped, but a group of wretched-looking men, pawing around their room.

Thankfully he knew Geralt had took his coin pouch with him. His heart jumped to his throat.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, and they startled, looking over at him, eyes wide and fearful. He wished he could move so badly, knowing his dagger was only a few feet away.

"Fuck, come on," one of them - the oldest, maybe - said. "Before he gets back."

Jaskier knew they were referencing his companion, rightfully afraid of him. "Yes," he said bitterly. He knew he was pushing his luck. "That would be for the best unless you're wishing for your face to be properly rearranged. Though in your cases, I'm afraid that would be an upgrade."

"What'd you say, you bastard? I ain't afraid of that devil's creation."

Jaskier watched him, stomach tight.

"You should be," he replied tersely.

And that was the last of any conversation they had before Jaskier's vision turned white, a fist colliding with the side of his face hard enough to knock him over. Thankfully the pain was muted, probably due to his condition. He gasped, eyelashes fluttering.

*

When Geralt returned a couple hours later, he opened his eyes - one of them, at least, the other already swelling from the assault. Geralt took one look at him before he dropped his bag heavily and rushed over, ignoring the mess that was their room. "Jaskier," he said. "What are the fuck happened?"

Jaskier swallowed thickly, mouth dry, as Geralt helped him sit up, so gentle.

"Just some bastards," he said around what felt like a mouthful of cotton. "Our stuff, Geralt - they - they ransacked it." His eyes burned when he remembered the worst or it. Not the pain, or the attack, but - "They took my lute." It had been the only thing with any value, considering Geralt had taken their money with them.

Geralt frowned, brushing some hair out of his face, gently assessing the damage. "Who were they?" he asked, voice surprisingly steady even as his eyes glowed with an unexpected rage.

"I - I don't know," he answered honestly. "Strangers. Geralt, don't."

He blinked at him, jaw tight. "What?"

"Go after them," he whispered. "Not tonight, at least. Please. I just - want you here, okay?"

Geralt didn't respond for a few long minutes, seemingly waging a war in his mind, before finally nodding. "Let me grab some stuff," he said gruffly before climbing off the bed and grabbing his bag of elixirs. Thankfully only some of them had been broken in the ransack.

He pulled out the right stuff, safe for humans, and applied a salve to Jaskier's wounds. Jaskier winced, mouth twitching.

He was surprised to find Geralt with the smallest smile on his face. "That is a good sign," he explained even as the rage continued to glow in his eyes. "You're getting some feeling back."

"Huh," Jaskier breathed. He thought of his lute. He would need to buy a new one for when he recovered. He was sad, of course, but there were more lutes in the world.

Geralt placed the vials aside and sat there, silent, for a long time. Jaskier just watched him. "We will head out first thing in the morning," he said eventually.

Jaskier was pleasantly surprised. "You're not going after them?" he asked, and Geralt took a breath, closing his eyes.

"I want to," he admitted with hate, "but right now you need me and that is more important."

Jaskier smiled a little. "Thank you, Geralt," he said softly. "I do. Need you, I mean."

 _The last thing I want is something needing me_ echoed in his mind, a distant memory.

*

It was a week later when Geralt returned to their inn - in a different town, far from the previous - with a lute. Jaskier blinked once, surprised at the sight. "Geralt?" he asked, heart warm. "You shouldn't have."

Geralt pinned him with an unimpressed look. "I did," he said, leaving no room for argument. He sat heavily on the bed, placing the lute between them. It was wood, a little worn, but with beautiful intricate designs on the base of the instrument. Jaskier wanted to reach out and run his fingertips over it.

"Well, thank you," he said with a smile. "I thought you'd be happy, not having to hear my music."

Geralt stared at him, an odd twist of his mouth. "I lied," he said finally, gently touching the lute. If Jaskier didn't know better, he would say he looked shy. "I don't dislike your music, Jaskier."

Jaskier blinked, heart exploding. "Oh," he breathed, at a loss for words. He had always hoped - and even teased - that Geralt liked his music, his cruel words be damned, but he never expected to actually hear it. He glanced down, wishing - more than ever - that he could play. "Oh," he repeated lamely.

"Mhm," was his only reply.

*

Unfortunately, Jaskier realized his condition wouldn't just magically be cured. Even as the days went on, and he could feel again, slow but steady, he struggled, every joint and muscle in his body as stiff as a rock. Geralt was still a constant at his side, helping him.

Like now. Geralt held his hand, gently massaging his stiff joints.

"Feel okay?" he asked, and Jaskier was able to nod, just a small jerk of his head.

Jaskier ignored the fear in the pit of his stomach. "What if I can never play as I once did?" he asked as Geralt released his hand, nodding. They had been through this a dozen times. Jaskier forced his fingers to curl just the tiniest bit. His hand shook a little.

"You will," he said tersely.

Jaskier smiled slightly. "You are a good man, Geralt," he said, meaning every word of it.

Geralt looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "I'm really not," he said gruffly, and Jaskier wished - more than anything - he could make him believe his swords. He knew it wasn't that easy; his few kind words couldn't wipe away centuries of cruelty.

"You are to me," he said instead, soft and true. "Some of the best men wouldn't have stayed by my side through all this and yet you did. Do not sell yourself short just because society wishes you to."

Geralt smiled, a quick twitch of his mouth that he quickly covered with a cough. Jaskier grinned toothily. Bingo.

*

Slowly he regained the movement of his fingers, though the joints were still stiff. That was actually the easier part. Walking was a bit harder. Jaskier felt like an idiot as Geralt gently lifted him off the bed, an arm wrapped around him. His knees buckled, unused for so long.

Thankfully Geralt could easily hold his weight. "Take your time," he said, and his heart warmed at his gentleness even if he felt like the biggest nuisance in the world, leaning heavily against his side.

Despite his progress he still hadn't touched his lute - the gift from Geralt - that had been squirelled away for days in a corner of the room. Geralt hadn't pushed, though sometimes he looked at him like he saw right through him, a slight frown pulling at his face.

Jaskier took a shaky breath. "Okay," he said. "I'm good."

A bit of an overstatement, but still. Geralt held him, tight against his side, as he took his first step. His heart pounded at the numbness in his legs.

"Good," he heard from his side. "Again."

Jaskier took a second step, every inch of his body tingling as he moved. Geralt loosed his grip just a little.

"Again," he said, and Jaskier obeyed. His knees buckled again and he nearly fell before Geralt caught him. Without a word between them, he led him back to the bed and he sat with a frustrated sigh.

"This is taking too long," he grumbled. "I can't - I'm wasting so much time."

Your time, he thought bitterly, guiltly, as he peered at his companion sitting next to him.

"You're making progress," he said, surprisingly soft. Jaskier didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to the lute. His stomach churned. He was a coward. "That is all that matters."

Jaskier opened his mouth, closed it. "I'm scared, Geralt," he admitted quietly. "What if I can't play?"

Geralt glanced at him, jaw tight. "You can," he said. "Your fingers have regained most of their movement." There was a softness to his eyes he didn't usually see - not pity, but something softer. "You just have to try."

All he could do was nod, closing his eyes. "You really don't have to do all this," he said, guilt expanding in his chest, squeezing his heart.

He startled when he felt a hand on his arm, opening his eyes. Geralt was watching him with a perfectly blank expression. "I suppose not," he agreed slowly, quietly. "But I want to, because - " He paused, eyes flickering to the side. "I care for you, Jaskier, even if I don't always know how to show it."

Jaskier smiled, eyes warm. "You do," he said. "Know how to show it, I mean. Albiet in your own way."

Geralt smiled back, just the smallest upward quirk of his mouth. Jaskier glanced away, taking a deep breath. His fingers twitched with the urge to play, to put his feelings - as big and bright as they were - into music, like he always did when he was feeling emotional.

"I think I want to try," he said. He didn't need to specify what he was referring to, especially after their conversation. "Can you grab it for me?"

Geralt stood up and walked across the room to grab the - _his_ \- lute, returning with it.

Jaskier took it, hands shaking both from nerves and his still-recovering joints. Geralt sat next to him again, patiently waiting. He placed his fingers over the strings, swallowing thickly. He wanted to sing for Geralt. To Geralt, all the things he would never say.

Finally he plucked the first cord and he almost sobbed with joy, the sound familiar and comforting to his ears. Geralt watched him with the start of a smile.

"If I cry, will you make fun of me?"

Geralt snorted, shaking his head. "No," he assured him.

Jaskier let out a shaky laugh and continued to pluck at the cords, not quite playing anything, just - playing for the sake of it. To feel the cords under his fingertips.

"Thank you, Geralt," he said after a while of mindless playing. "For everything."

Geralt tilted his head, eyes fond. "I will be here," he said, "until you're fully recovered."

Jaskier ignored the irregular beating of his heart. "And after," he replied hopefully.

He was silent at first and Jaskier prepared for the worst, to be cast away as a bother, which would only be fair after everything. But then - "And after," he confirmed quietly.  
Jaskier smiled, biting the inside of his cheek, as he continued to play, fingers steady.


End file.
